forbiostosaveyeah2

[forbiostosaveyeah2]

OVERVIEW

Specie: Vampire

Full Name: Troy Hale

Birthday & Age: May 8th, 1959 / 22 (58)

Rank: Progeny

Occupation: Server @ Safe House

Neighborhood: Mercer Apartments, 2 bed 1 bath - lives with Patience Gatley

Residency Status: Newcomer, 28 days

Sexual Orientation: Up To Player

PERSONALITY & QUIRKS

+ pro-active, humble, resourceful, & intuitive

- pessimistic, clinging, jealous, & volatile

BIOGRAPHY

Things were startlingly blurry when Troy’s eyes flicked open. A bright, stabbing light was coming from the window. He squeezed both his eyes shut, then opened one just enough to squint through. It still seemed like a million flashlights were pointed at him. The white, thin sheets that covered him did nothing to block the blinding light searing heat down from above. He glanced out the open window - a habit that he could never understand or break, at the pink-orange sunrise sky. He felt like she had been living in eternal night for too long. Two familiar figures stood in front of Troy, but their faces were in shadow, the light source coming from behind. When he finally grew accustomed to the light, she opened his eyes fully. He took in the person sitting beside the bed, curiosity potent in the way her gaze lingered. It was then Troy recognized her. And him. “Momma’? Father…?” He blinked a few times, his eyes bleary and unfocused. His hand moved to her temples. “What are y’all doin’ he―” Gone. The man shook his head, confused as to why he actually thought they alive once again.

In Houston, Texas, the Hale family were broken apart on a cold Tuesday night in May 26th,1986. His father, mother, and two older sister. It was a real massacre and he was the murderer. He had become a lifeless kid. A monster. A devil. A death maker. But the worst thing was that he actually, truthfully, undoubtedly didn’t care. It was the night he had transformed. A night out with his crew ending with sweet kisses from a mistress, leading to a bite that should’ve been fatal. In reality, unlike most vampires, his transformation was within minutes.

Everything seemed different when he changed, somehow. Nothing was the same-even the feel of the air, the repugnant smell that came from her farm, the look of the stars; even the things that were supposed to be eternal, supposed to be the same now as they were ten years ago or fifty years. It was as if something had been robbed from him - as if he had lost her allotted share of youthful naivety and his turning into a vampire was his rude awakening. Like loving, killing was a very personal thing. And as he sucked the last drop of blood from his sister’s wrist, Troy took it all; suddenly not wanting to miss a single moment of it.

Taking some deep breaths, techniques taught to him by his new psychologist, Troy stared at the purple-smudge clouds hovering over Brakebills like bruises. He deliberately relaxed his grip on his backpack’s strap, the last shaft of sunlight glinting off his bright golden necklace. Troy allowed the pleasure of the twilight to soothe him, and inhaled deeply to breathe the sweet, damp air. He tried to stop feeling like he was driving into a battle because he promised himself Brakebills was going to be different. The vampire had gone through most of his life alone and unable to find peace within himself. After having lost his sense of humanity after turning, he’s trying to make amends of sorts. Becoming one with vampirism is all he needs but protection is far more important to him. So, although the company is bothersome, he has tagged along the newly turned Patience, finding her very own independent company pleasant enough for him to endure.

CONNECTIONS

✗ Patience Gatley - He had barely noticed her when meeting the strange Gatley woman. She had a strange look on her face, both gentle and bleak. He hadn’t planned on approaching her, vampires usually bored him about two seconds of meeting them. Puppets, Troy likes to say. Patience had other plans, one that included whisking Troy away and to a remote town his Southern self had no intention of going to. He could feel it, the strangeness of meeting both Patience and Brakebills at the same time. Almost like destiny.  But hey, what’s the worse that could happen?

His face claim is Jacob Artist and he’s currently RESERVED

[forbiostosaveyeah2]

OVERVIEW

Specie: Witch

Full Name: Vernon Beaumount

Birthday & Age: September 3rd, 1990 / 24

Level: Sorcerer

Occupation: Trainee Nurse at Sinclair Hospital

Neighborhood: Mercer Apartments, 2 bed 1 bath - lives with Salem Sinclair

Residency Status: 1 year

Sexual Orientation: Up To Player

PERSONALITY & QUIRKS

+ courteous, pioneering, humorous, & exuberant

- stingy, bossy, overemotional, & touchy

BIOGRAPHY

After finishing his afternoon errands he had lazily done that day, the witch went to visit his grandfather. In a coherent and presentable way, he stood alone in the graveyard. The rain had stopped luckily and the wind was falling on his back, drying the moisture off his clothes, and causing his hair to sway in every direction lightly. He passed his gaze over the letters written on the grave before him. Vernon Beaumont. The grave itself was simple. No meaningful quotes or decoration to mark the person under the ground as a special person. Nothing; just a body underground. He moved to sit on the curb in front of the discreet headstone. He needed to pay his respects in the only way he knew how; in the only way a person who has never met the deceased knew how. He shifted slightly in an attempt to get comfortable. Then his eyelids fell and he started to puzzle the pieces of his grandpa’ back together. The ones he remembered, anyway. The male wasn’t sure of how long it had been since the last time he came to visit. It had been such a long time. Mainly because his mother never allowed him to but also because he simply forgot. He was supposed to restore his memory more often though, not leave it neglected in the back of his mind. Especially memories as important as the man who shaped his entire character.

The lawful Vernon, grew with the utmost care and love for the human world. Perhaps it’s in his nature to be kind, an innate trait the boy grew with, perhaps it was the mere fact of his mother’s pure hatred towards the humans that led him to be the exact opposite, but the young man isn’t to be confused for an individual who isn’t plagued by the world’s sins. No, Vernon is just a man who has seen his own inner darkness, faced it, and now, does not run from it when he encounters it in others. In some ways, he had the potential to be the strongest of the Beaumont family and led their coven like his cousin, Eve, was raised to be - his intensity, drive, and brilliant visionary dreams combined with his innate leadership skills, the charisma, and the profound sense of self (including the eccentric lack of interest in conforming to what other people think) is stuff of which great, powerful witches are made of.

However, the young witch has much to learn about politics, knowing who is an appropriate object of trust and who is not trustworthy, knowing when to keep his mouth shut, and knowing when to avoid acting on impulse in order to use a situation to it’s best advantage. Fatherless at the age of eight, orphan at the young age of twelve after the murder of his mother by a rivaling coven of witches, Vernon has dealt with the loss of both his parents strangely. He searched for success and victory soon after, proclaiming if he did so, the honor would be for his deceased parents. He held strong and blocked out the pain, held his head high and said it didn’t matter. But the pain still came, still lived inside his ever present mind. The memories came and went all at once. They resurfaced and presented themselves explicitly in the back of his mind.

He recounted every smile. Every frown. Every touch and every kiss his mother gave him. During a period of his life, Vernon lost sight of himself and those around him. Alcohol, drugs, sex; he became addicted to a life he never planned for himself. He was in so damn deep that he was not so sure he could claw his way out. He had made mistakes, he’ll be the first to admit it. Too many to count, too many to repair. Mistakes that could have been prevented, that should have never happened. Luckily his aunt had made a proposition in secret to her dearest nephew, wanting him and another to follow her estranged daughter to Brakebills. Vernon was told that he was only to watch her move but he can tell there’s something more. Something beyond even his aunt’s orders. But the witch is now in a place where he doesn’t dwell on things too much, or the world’s ugliness, but instead, he searches for the light inside everyone and everything. He searches for hope. Because it is the only thing stronger than fear.

CONNECTIONS

✗ Salem Sinclair - The accident prone Sinclair son was the little brother Vernon never had - because the little brother he did have didn’t have a list of people they BOTH had to avoid. He hadn’t been the easiest friend to grow up with, but in away the two are one in the same. Vernon saw himself in Salem, and when addiction, neglect of self, abuse became of regular occurrence to them in their teen years all they had was one another. He can definitely say he trusts Salem with his life. Moving to Brakebills has bonded them further but there is an odd gleam in his friend’s eyes. One he’s seen before but won’t dare to verbalize his worries just yet.

✗ Selena Ivy - Growing in New York City as a witch had too many perks to count. The city was practically built with magic, witches there could just… Be. Vernon & Eve had two different upbringings even though they had come from the same family coven. While him and the rest of the children practiced magic in Central Park under powerful charms, Eve practiced in a secluded, dimly lit room with only two books as her company. No one knew why. Sure she had triggered her powers very early but so have others in the past. What was so special about her? Now, a secret watcher for his coven, he leads a double life in order to see that his cousin never finds her way back to her family.

✗  Angelo Viana - Vernon had always been good with his words. A sly talker, it was once his greatest strength & worked flawlessly with his classmates in high school  - add underage drinking and Vernon was practically a king. So, when he first encountered Angelo, the other witch had been distraught beyond words. Honestly, he had no idea what to say or what to do except to do what he knew best. Talk. He talked for ages it seemed, about anything and anyone and everything in between because he wasn’t sure what they would’ve done if he stopped talking. He’s kept a close relationship with them now although still doesn’t know much about them. About the day they had met. He’s grown rather fond of them too but, in a relationship so close yet so guarded, what could flourish from that?

His face claim is Zayn Malik and he’s currently being played by Nina.

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OVERVIEW

Specie: Vampire, Affinity to Water (Untriggered)

Full Name: Patience Gatley

Birthday & Age: March 1st, 1992 / 20 (25)

Rank: Progeny

Occupation: Server @ Safe House

Neighborhood: Mercer Apartments, 2 bed 1 bath - lives with Troy Hale

Residency Status: 28 days

Sexual Orientation: Up To Player

PERSONALITY & QUIRKS

+ persuasive, simple, youthful, & alert

- prim, desperate, indulgent, & asocial

BIOGRAPHY

There’s something spine-tingling about someone who could kill, maim, and destroy, but chooses to do good. If you think about it, it’s actually why most villains are more lovable than heroes in books and they’re not lovable only because they’re flawed, powerful, cunning or charming, but also because they are not just black and white; they are an entire color spectrum. They’re real, like us. We don’t relate to the hero’s brawny way of dealing with things. We don’t always do the right thing. We don’t flash sparkly teeth and we don’t trust, no, we lie, we betray, we fume, we keep secrets, we get selfish. We relate to villains because they’re inherently part of ourselves. They reflect the complexities in our mind, because like them, we constantly have urges to overthrow logic and sanity. Like them, we have weaknesses. And at the end of the day, as much as we love villains, we hate to see them conquer, because we feel that them winning shows that the bad side within us has the power to corrupt. And this side, ranging in diversity, is the one Patience Gatley has fought with for most of her life. Because she knew if she glimpsed into it just one bit, let it consume just a fraction of her pure soul, she knew it would consume her whole.

Daughter of a prestigious Baptist pastor, she was to have the life of her mother when she reached the age of maturity. Marry an upcoming pastor, birth children to please her husband and the Lord, and be the best wife she could be. But Patience always had an eccentric taste, a wild imagination that couldn’t be sustained by living a life of commands and pleasing only others, never herself. So she ran away from home at a tender age of sixteen, a distant relative giving her shelter until she was to become of age. She left her one true love behind but was keen on keeping in touch, sending letters daily; a back-and-forth action that lasted until the two wed on Patience’s eighteenth birthday.

After a week or so of morning kisses, breakfast in bed, and nights full of pationate sex, Maven’s job came knocking at their door, taking Patience with it. He was a witch hunter coming from a long line of same-minded relatives in the trade; an insane secret that he had told her very early on in their relationship. And to some degree, she understood his line of work and didn’t bother to feel burdened by it. But they were married then, she wanted to spend her days with him on their couch, not seating outside on their porch hoping for him to come back alive. In the end, that’s exactly what she did. Until Alistair’s job came looking for her in order to get a little pay-back for her husband’s many fatalities.

No matter, she has learned not to blame herself nor anyone else for her outcome. She can only blame her maker, a woman who took her humanity just to avenge her husband; at least she thinks it’s a woman; the night in which she was bitten comes as a blur, making it hard to decipher specific details. Meeting a vamp she has met along the way has led her to conjure up enough willpower to remember some pieces of the night she was bitten, but very little and not enough to find out just exactly came after her. A little obsessive over the matter, Patience’s sole purpose now is to find out who her maker. Why? Closure… Maybe? She’s not sure. But in reality, it’s only to distract her from the real problem. Her thirst and her inability to think of her husband in any way aside from draining him of his blood. She has kept her distance, made sure to never cross paths with him, but sooner or later, they will and she has no idea what will happen then. Will they hug and kiss in bliss or will her hidden fangs be Alistair’s downfall?

CONNECTIONS

✗ Alistair Gatley - How is one supposed to avoid the person who once held your heart so tight and close to their own? Who didn’t necessary mirror your emotions, but they understood them so much you never felt you even needed to speak? But for once, their romance lies only in Patience’s lap. She sees him almost daily, and everyday she’s tempted to just running into his arms and fuck the consequences. But her control of her bloodlust isn’t up to par with her standards, considering her vampire partner has had to hide three bodies Patience couldn’t ungrip her fangs from.

✗ Troy Hale - The Hale vampire wasn’t her first choice, surely wouldn’t have been her last. But after getting a lead on the woman who turned her, she needed someone stronger than her. Like kindred hearts however, Patience f e l t it in her heart Troy would be the perfect person for the job. Could she end the life of her maker? Her nature has been distorted beyond measure, she no longer recognizes herself at times. Strangely though Troy’s company soothes that part of herself, reminding her that this life was forced upon her and she’s simply doing the best she can.

Her face claim is Zoë Kravitz and she’s currently open.

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OVERVIEW

Specie: Witch

Full Name: Salem Sinclair

Birthday & Age: November 25th, 1994 / 23

Level: Favoured Soul

Occupation: Trust Fund Baby

Neighborhood: Mercer Apartments, 2 bed 1 bath - lives with Vernon Beaumount

Residency Status: 1 year

Sexual Orientation: Homosexual

PERSONALITY & QUIRKS

+ understanding, diligent, charismatic, & frank

- vain, bone-idle, belligerent, & indiscreet

BIOGRAPHY

tw: suicide mention

He leaned forward slowly, very slowly as if he was giving the man a glimpse of a chance to escape what was about to come, or perhaps to make sure his motive and the man’s were in harmony. He sighed in contentment, his arms tightening around the blonde’s waist as he captured the man’s lips with his. Somewhere in the endless spinning of eternity that one, tiny, fraction of a second where their lips met was entirely lost. The night was more than memorable. Salem needed someone to remind him not jump too high into anything. Because that night was not memorable. It was life-changing. And through most of the young man’s life, “life-changing” was anything but foreign to him. It was life-changing when his mother divorced his father only to marry a woman two weeks later. It was life-changing when his mother, after going to South Korea with her newly wedded wife, came back to her son with a surprise; an adopted daughter. But it was definitely life-changing when he had a dream of his mother pulling the trigger of the gun set against the temple of her head the night before her suicide.

Salem Sinclair nestled his chin on the man’s shoulder and sighed. Born and raised in New York, New York, Salem always had always had an eerie feeling at the tip of his toes that he was different. Not in terms of his sexual orientation or even his mother’s marriage. In fact, his childhood had been pretty normal. He watched the same generic television shows his classmates watched, hung out with his neighborhood friends, and had the same mind most seven year old children had at that time. But there were instances where a déjà vu moment turned into more than just a repetitive feeling. Visions and dreams of the possible future had been a curse and a blessing given to Salem by an ancestry unknown to either him or his immediate family. That’s why he decided to take on an auction guest’s outlook on life. For them, every moment, every opportunity, every event is treated like their last, like life or death, like do or die.

They’re all like rebellious teenagers, dreaming as if they’d live forever, living as if they might perish the very next minute. Especially for that moment when their desirable treasure comes on the stage. Never once in his life had the man felt important, significant in a oh-so large universe. Empty and worthless, Salem took every opportunity he got to feel something - anything. In high school, Salem fell dangerously in love with any guy who would just notice him. A simple “Hi!” would send the poor soul head-over-heels. He hated himself for having a shallow-thinking mind and for being so sickly optimistic. But he couldn’t help himself. Salem craved, and still craves, attention from men, the embrace, the warmth that comes with being in close contact with another being. But apparently, everything around him seems to mock him in derision of failure.

Salem has now taken the role of the many men he has slept with. Cold, distant, and abrasive. But inside the polished shell he has created, exists the same old self-conscious man who desires nothing more than to be in peace with himself others. To add to his early “mid-life crisis”, the visions he had once lost have started to pace back into his mind, digging themselves in and creating a home deep inside his head. And with a mission to keep watch of the shunned witch, Selena Ivy, they have now turned somehow more eerie than usual, as if he his eyes have been fogged with ignorance. Salem feels he will finally receive the answers to questions he had kept bottled up for many years.

CONNECTIONS

✗ Vernon Beaumount - They are yin and yang, night and day, what Salem lacked yet Vernon would make up for. What Vernon didn’t have the guts to do, Salem would step in and do the dirty deed for him. A balance they have kept since they were mere children, Salem will follow Vernon till the depths of the Earth. He was the first to tell him he wasn’t a freak for his visions, Vernon not only led him to back to his coven to train him but also personally helped him overcome his visions. But Salem still is the little younger brother Vernon never had. As they watch over the Ivy witch for their coven back home, Salem’s not sure if the efforts will pay off in the end. His “dreams” have only gotten worse and the deaths of a few selected has crossed his mind.

His face claim is Daniel Sharman and he’s currently being played by Cinnamon.

------------

[forbiostosaveyeah2]

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.”

† Basics ;

Species → Vampire

Skill → Progeny

Age → Appears 32, 36 years old

Occupation → Unemployed

† Status ;

Neighborhood → Sunny Daze Motel, single occupancy.

Residency Status → Returning after 4 years.

Pure of Heart → 236

Corrupted Soul → 120

† Personality ;  

+Generous, conscientious, intuitive, broad-minded.

- Aloof, patronizing, sensitive, fussy.

† History ;

There’s something spine-tingling about someone who could kill, maim, and destroy, but chooses to do good. If you think about it, it’s actually why most villains are more lovable than heroes in books and they’re not lovable only because they’re flawed, powerful, cunning or charming, but also because they are not just black and white; they are an entire color spectrum. They’re real, like us. We don’t relate to the hero’s brawny way of dealing with things. We don’t always do the right thing. We don’t flash sparkly teeth and we don’t trust, no, we lie, we betray, we fume, we keep secrets, we get selfish. We relate to villains because they’re inherently part of ourselves. They reflect the complexities in our mind, because like them, we constantly have urges to overthrow logic and sanity. Like them, we have weaknesses. And at the end of the day, as much as we love villains, we hate to see them conquer, because we feel that them winning shows that the bad side within us has the power to corrupt. And this side, ranging in diverse possibilities, is the one Abigail Stein has fought for most of her life. Because she knew if she glimpsed into it just one bit, let it consume just a fraction of her pure soul, she knew it would consume her whole.

Daughter of a prestigious Baptist pastor, she was to have the life of her mother when she reached the age of maturity. Marry an upcoming pastor, birth children to please her husband and the Lord, and be the best wife she could be. But Abigail always had an eccentric taste, a wild imagination that couldn’t be sustained by living a life of commands and pleasing only others, never herself. So she ran away from home at a tender age of sixteen, a distant relative giving her shelter until she was to become of age. She left her one true love behind but was keen on keeping in touch, sending letters daily; a back-and-forth action that lasted until the two wed on Abigail’s eighteenth birthday. After a week or so of morning kisses, breakfast in bed, and nights full of sex, Edward’s job came knocking at their door, taking Edward with it. He was a vampire hunter, that he had told her very early on in their relationship. And to some degree, she understood his line of work and didn’t bother to feel burdened by it. But they were married then, she wanted to spend her days with him on their couch, not seating outside on their porch wishing for him to come back alive. In the end, that’s exactly what she did. Until Edward’s job came looking for her in order to get a little pay-back for her husband’s many kills against their kind.

No matter, she has learned not to blame herself nor Edward for the outcome. She can only blame her maker, a woman who took her humanity just to avenge her husband; at least she thinks it’s a woman; the night in which she was bitten comes as a blur, making it hard to decipher specific details. Meeting Jacqueline and “Heather” has led her to conjure up enough willpower to remember some pieces of the night she was bitten, but very little and not enough to find out just exactly came after her. A little obsessive over the matter, Abigail’s sole purpose now is to find out who her maker. Why? Closure, maybe? She’s not sure. But in reality, it’s only to distract her from the real problem. Her thirst and her inability to think of her husband in any way aside from draining him of his blood. She has kept her distance, made sure to never cross paths with him, but sooner or later, they will and she has no idea what will happen then. Will they hug and kiss in bliss or will her hidden fangs be Edward’s downfall?

† Connections ;

Edward Stein

Abigail had known about Edward’s line of work and was proud to know a man with such a passion for the greater good. With every ounce of her being, she supported him. Perhaps that is why she has yet to contact him, even after her death. Though Abigail died, she was given a new life - one with the nightwalkers. She craves blood and has yet to control her insatiable thirst. Though a piece of humanity still resides deep within her, this only adds to why she keeps her distance - fearing that if she sees Edward, she may not be able to control her new found hunger.

Jacqueline Burgess

Far more docile (to some extent) and patient than Elizabeth, Abigail’s much fonder of Jacqueline. She treats her like a daughter, aiding her every need. Abigail guesses the woman has had children in her past but something tells her to not ask Jacqueline this specific question, knowing it’d hit home.

Elizabeth Bathory

To Abigail, the infamous Bathory is Heather, completely unaware of the woman’s real alias. Through nights out the two woman wonder the streets of cities they visit, Elizabeth showing distressed Abigail of what life is like for vampires. She’s trying to pretend she’s enjoying all that the woman has taught her but deep within, she’s hating it all. The world Elizabeth shows, although liberating, goes against every moral of Abigail possesses. But in order to obtain some control over he thirst, Abigail’s willing to fake it just a little more.

Her face claim is Diane Kruger and she is currently open.

[forbiostosaveyeah2]

“I shall continue to exist. I may assume other disguises, other forms, but I shall try to exist.”

† Basics ;

Species → Angel

Hierarchy → Common

Age → Appears 30, 371 years old

Occupation → Room Attendant @ Charlotte Street Inn

† Status ;

Neighborhood → The Slums, 1 bedroom 1 bath - lives with Seraphiel

Residency Status → New to Town

Pure of Heart → 9200

Corrupted Soul → 1

† Personality ;  

+ Diligent, faithful, sympathetic, ambitious.

- Insecure, persistent, dogmatic, truculent.

† History ;

Be an angel, humans would say to one another, when they want or are in need of something. Just be an angel and hand that to me or you be an angel while I’m gone, okay? They meant it in a good way; they meant be nice and kind and gentle, be a darling, a doll. They couldn’t be more wrong. But then, that was generally true of humanity. Many have done little to no study on the subject of angels, because mythological creatures were actually cultural memories of their own inner demons. But in reality angels, in their true form, could bring down the fury of heaven upon you or destroy your soul with a glance. Angels could be for evil as well as for good, and whether you chose to fear them or to worship them it was best to do so from afar. Angels are so beautiful and so terrible that the first thing they have to say when they meet a mortal is, Be not afraid. Angels don’t have to acknowledge you, after all. Angels only have to exist, in all their splendor, all their seductive purity. And if you fall, you have only yourself to blame.

Dominated by the moon and reigned by the Divines above, the young angel Muriel is the exception to such myths. A quiet soul, she was made with the hopes of a better future for humanity, to guide lost souls into her Father’s realm. Fairly young compared to her equals, Muriel exists only to please her maker and aside for her perfect purity, she brings great promise to Heaven and to those who have watched her blossom as God’s loyal servant. But the human realm has left the naive angel extremely worried for the past two hundred years. From afar she has watched tainted souls fall into the hands of evil without the knowledge of a better future. And while she has requested numerous times to be sent below and help purify those who have sinned against His word. But everytime she was shot down, told to wait for the “right moment”. Luckily her Garrison, led by a fellow angel known as Seraphiel, will be traveling to the human realm to help their Father’s mission in a matter of days. Immensely pleased, Muriel knows this will be her shot to prove herself to those who have watched her grow.

Deeply scared of rejection, she often wonders if she’ll be of any use to His cause. And with a corrupted town such as Bindlebrim Hallows, she knows this will be the biggest challenge she will face in her whole existence. She sees the town as a curse, conquered by darkness, and inevitably bound to Hell. Part of the angel is a little irritated at the mere existence of Bindlebrim and is sadden by the fact that the Lord remained to let it stir the souls of the Earth, but the other part, although unrecognized to her yet, has waited eagerly to the upcoming events of their trip. A glimmer of hope grows inside of her, but is tainted, thoughts of conquering the town now plaguing her once vague mind. But the thoughts aren’t of malice or mischief, but come from the kindest corner of her being. The stubborn desire to make the town better and holier for those residing inside of it, however, may just be what is tainting the angel’s pure heart. Regardless, she has found a desirable host, one who was on the brink of death, and is ready to start the mission she has waited since the moment she was created by Him.

† Connections;

Seraphiel

A fellow angel and a mentor of sorts, Muriel and Seraphiel have traveled to Earth together. And while their mission remain the same, Muriel fears Seraphiel is seeking for something other than pleasing their Lord. Once an angel who held a high rank inside Heaven, Seraphiel was stripped of his sense of self with reasons unknown to Muriel and to those who follow his command. While she’s here to cleanse the souls of Bindlebrim, she’s keeping a close eye on Seraphiel as well.

Her face claim is Angel Coulby and she is currently open.

[forbiostosaveyeah2]

“Chaos isn’t a pit. Chaos is a ladder. Many who try to climb it fail, never get to try again. The fall breaks them. Some are given a chance to climb but they refuse, they cling to the gods or love, illusions. Only the ladder is real. The climb is all there is.”

† Basics ;

Species → Werewolf, Magnum Malum Lupis

Level → Five

Rank → Delta

Age → Appears 27, 298 years old.

Occupation → Studio Art Professor at Astoria University

† Status ;

Neighborhood → Hillside Cabins, 3 bedrooms 3 baths - lives with Enya and Elliot.

Residency Status → New to Town (1 month resident)

Pure of Heart → 2890

Corrupted Soul → 459

† Personality ;  

+ Sensitive, manipulative, complex, bold.

- Bipolar, radical, tantalizing, dark.

† History ;

“You’re my son, Evan. Act like it.” His father’s words dropped into his consciousness, shattered the young boy’s thoughts into a hundred shards of incredulity. They quietly mocked him, testing the brittle chains holding back their memories, invoking an aching stir of emptiness. His head prickled as every single hair follicle on his body stood to attention, and the world fell away from him, leaving a wide, yawning abyss for the werewolf to fall into. A whirlwind of images seemed to flash through his mind. A woman weeping in her husband’s arms; the tough look on the husband’s face, standing tall and terrible, trying not to collapse; a vision of a boy screaming in his bedroom, as his siblings are forced to listen; and an imagination of a smiling young man with smooth, beautiful hair dripping with blood and falling amid the flames of the woods, as a knife was embedded in his heart and orange light reflected from a bloody moon. “Evan, are listening to me? Evan!” His lips open, but the words had no will to come out. His lined face was ghastly pale, his irises were visibly trembling. He looked like he was in the final throes of a terminal illness in a matter of seconds. Slowly, he looked up at the angered father, his face showing no emotion but a sinister smile.

                        ”Yes, father, I’m listening…”

Evan Kovar thinks of himself as someone who could go far and beyond of what others understood as being rational but to the world, very troubled. You see, despite being born to a family full of leaders, there had been a certain viciousness and trauma that was seeded within Evan in a very early age. During his entire life, the werewolf has tried to rediscover concepts he had once understood. Friendship, calmness, safety, security. Any concepts that once used to hold him together. He failed. The only thing he fully rediscovered was his anger. There were no tools to tamp down his rage, his discomfort, the injustice that dogged him, the memories that plagued him. There was nothing except stalwart forward motion and the constant goddamn vigilance. Guilt was a disease and Evan was its hostage. The unlucky one, Evan had the unpleasant opportunity to witness his mother’s suicide. A child nonetheless, he couldn’t have done much to the stop the outcome of her decision. So there he stood, watching with wide eyes as his mother jumped from three story balcony, hearing a faint but prominent ‘thud’ four seconds later. He had been only been twelve years old but his body was no bigger than of a four year old. But none of it mattered to his father. Not his wife’s chronic disease and depression, not Evan’s lack of knowledge, nothing. The blame went all to him.

Justified through his brother, the werewolf’s father wouldn’t hear any of it. So, even after his mother’s passing, Evan and his brother remained in a house haunted by unpleasant memories of their past while his father and sister ran off with a pack the young men knew nothing of. Over the years resentfulness embroiled itself in Evan’s heart as he became possessed with the idea of taking down his father once and for all, claiming Magnum Malum Lupis for himself. Unfortunately he was met by his sister a hundred years later as she spoke of their father’s sudden and unexpected disappearance. Puzzled, he could only follow his sister, for he still wanted to claim his father’s pack. Years have passed and the once sweet Evan Kovar isn’t, well, so sweet anymore. Not the type to complain whenever embroiled in bizarre or dangerous situations, Evan has become irrational and impuslive. He thinks and strategizes for half a second, seizes opportunities as they come, milks chances for all they’re worth – and to hell with the consequences, as long as they are beneficial to him. His principles might not impress moralists, but it’s how he operates; how he deals with whatever life hands him. But right now at this point in his life, strategizing is the one thing on his mind. For once in his life, Evan doesn’t look broken, frail: his face no longer displays any pain he had become accustomed to in his many years of living, neither does it show the inner turmoil that had so often troubled him.

† Connections ;

Enya Kovar

Evan doesn’t hate his sister now any less than he previously did. When he’s around the she-wolf, he stands there, proud and bold, eyeing her speculatively, as if he knew all about her desperation, her fairly growing need to have power from all sides. She was driven by her power-hungry attitude, her apprehension and her fear of being without purpose. Kill her, his subconscious sneers at him daily, loud and demanding. But he can’t see the great benefit of the idea. It was preposterous, but he doesn’t kick it out of his head. With plans to take the pack for himself, Evan will make sure to see his sister’s end at his own game.

Elliot Kovar

Evan, although would never admit it, thinks highly of his brother. Unbelievably smart – a genius in logic and many other scientific fields, Evan had sometimes felt like an idiot just standing beside his brother, Elliot. His actions were fluid and cultured, and spoke volumes about his deep personality. He had amazing leadership abilities, whether he himself realized it or not. Undying moral convictions and fierce loyalty to friends and family made up the rest of Evan’s thoughts about his brother. They have been together through thick and thin, always side by side and never once did Elliot leave his brother’s side. A strong bond had formed among them in the years they were left to fend for themselves, alone in the world with no knowledge of where to go. It was the kind that would stay despite distance and time.

Meghan Rivers

He had watched with a bored expression as his sister took on yet another challenge, a woman with pups by her side. But only one of the pups caught his attention as the fight raged on. A small girl with golden blond hair, eyes wild and intense, body trembling with fear, bringing a weird sensation to his cold heart. Intrigued, he watched her from afar in the three years her and her brothers stayed in the company of the MML. And when she left, he followed. From a small girl to a confident woman he watched her become, but along the process grew relentless as he could only see the beauty that was Meghan Rivers from a safe distance. Stalking a prey it seemed, only one emotion could produce an effect as grand as the one the werewolf held onto: Love. But he wasn’t sure if it was really love. In his mind, it was only an infatuation, or a silly crush – hell, he didn’t even believe a person as messed up as himself could feel such emotion. But the years spaced between his distant visits were too long a time period for something as shallow as a passing obsession; and what he was feeling then, what he was hearing – the blood pounding through his ears, the worry and fear for another person so palpable that he could almost see it rising from the tips of his toes to the top of his head – it’s too deep, too vast, for it to be anything but love.

His face claim is Andrew Lee Potts and he is currently open.

[forbiostosaveyeah2]

“You must be shapeless, formless, like water. When you pour water in a cup, it becomes the cup. When you pour water in a bottle, it becomes the bottle. When you pour water in a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Water can drip and it can crash. I am like water.”

† Basics ;

Species → Shapeshifter, Level 2

Transformation → Fox

Age → 18

Occupation → Pickpocket

† Status ;

Neighborhood → The Slums - 4 bedrooms, lives with Jayden, Thomas, Georgia, and Portia.

Residency Status → Resident, 2 years.

Pure of Heart → 91

Corrupted Soul → 206

† Personality ;  

+ Sly, intelligent, adaptable, clever.

- Timid, cold, careless, guarded.

† History ;

They say foxes are perhaps one of the most adaptable of all animals. Though their reputation as scoundrels would have the general populous think of them as nothing more than a nuisance, they do possess traits that we, as a species, can learn from. You see, most people turn their backs on change - in favor of the known.They have adapted to harsh environments from ice to snow to desert. And much like the fox, Felicia’s skin, “has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel.” For many long years, Felicia Viana’s heart had been brutally shut away from the world. She wanted to experience the warmth of love, and allow the exhilarating rush of of it all to tingle through every nerve in her body. And hypocritically, at the same time, love was the one thing she kept pushing away and running from. She summoned a brick wall that would forever barricade her from the idea of trusting anyone beside herself and her brother. Because she knew. She knew that it couldn’t end up well. She was not a princess in some absurd fairytale and therefore she was not guaranteed a sugar-coated happily-ever-after. So that was how she protected herself, suppressing her hopes in order to secure minimal disappointment. And that suited the shape-shifter just fine.

Heeled biker boots, tight denim jeans and form-fitting shirts are her go-to pieces for day and night. Her style is all about the confidence that she greatly lacks from the inside. But Felicia was born with a staggering, commanding manner. She had spent all her life in warrior mode to adapt and protect herself and only herself. She was stormy, stubborn… and impatient. Four years on the run with her twin brother taught her how precious a life was after watching an arrow plunge deep into her twin’s head, months on the street taught her to be quick in her movements and judgment, and a year of being a member of Thomas’ shape-shifter pack taught her that being ‘soft-touched’ helped no one. Felicia knows how to steal from a person. She knows how to battle fear and fatigue. She probably knows how to make kids smile. She definitely knows how to make them cry. She knows how to abide. She knows that she has have a purpose in this world; everything to seek or wish to have. She knows how to die, and she knows what to expect from herself when she’s let down. But she still doesn’t know how to love.

At least now however, Felicia knows she comes with a big baggage. She knows she’s a high-maintenance menace. And she knows that she’s a heavy handful. The only problem is that everyone else around her has no idea what type of a handful she is. What crazy, crazy type of a handful she is. And time can only tell. Only time can tell everything. The shape-shifter has seen faces and heard voices as she wended her way past the blurry bodies around her through most of her life. People rushed past her, and she rushed past them, but it was distant, her body and her soul were disconnected. She registered the movement but it meant nothing to her. In her mind, Felicia lives in a small peaceful island in a universe of hell. But the moment the century old shape-shifter, Jayden Shen, welcomed Felicia into his pack, Felicia has been lost in moment. The one where she got to choose. Upon entering Bindlebrim Hallows, her future branched into two distinct time lines: one in which she made that simple move, turned around and sought out her old ways. And one in which she tried to yet again blend and adapt. For now, Felicia has chosen the latter.

† Connections ;

Jayden Shen

Jayden is someone who pays attention to you. Someone who sees you and likes what he sees no matter what. Likes to look at you, even though you aren’t perfect. He makes it seem like even if you want to leave, you won’t want to. And Felicia let the man make her feel safe, small, protected. In her life there had been moments of happiness. Glimpses here, there. And while she isn’t exactly searching for it, she feels if she stays with the Jayden, she might just experience happiness here and there again.

Thomas Rhines

The ring leader, if you will, of the girl’s shape-shifter pack, Felicia often thinks the man has only welcomed her in because of Jayden’s consent. Her act around the man, much like the one with Georgia and Portia, is all about proving that she is in fact worthy of being in his pack. She doesn’t know if her act has been bought nor if her act is even believable. But at the end of the day, she won’t stop until it is.

Georgia Jereau and Portia Gabris

Generally frightened by the two fearless women, Felicia has had a tough time relating to the two. She wants to be accepted fully into their pack, not just by Jayden and Thomas. But her life, her journey to find people like herself, was child’s play compared to them. And in a fight to stay alive. Felicia just hopes she won’t be a liability rather than a helping hand to the two.

Her face claim is Sophie Turner and she is currently open.

[forbiostosaveyeah2]

“You were aimed from birth: you will never be alone. Rain will come, a gutter filled, an Amazon, long aisles – you never heard so deep a sound, moss on rock, and years. You turn your head – that’s what the silence meant: you’re not alone. The whole wide world pours down.”

† Basics ;

Species → Fae

Skill → Amazon

Age → 37

Occupation → Professional Combat Trainer

† Status ;

Neighborhood → Forest Living, 2 bedroom 1 bath - lives alone.

Residency Status → Returning after 20 years of absence

Pure of Heart → 246

Corrupted Soul → 77

† Personality ;  

+ Militant, blatant, rational, empowered.

- Fickle, doubtful, quick-tempered, bivariate.

† History ;

Tender were the mother’s hands to smear the aqueous mud against the young seventeen year old girl’s pale milky breast. “You were born as unclothed Amazon, you do not adjust to human convictions. A snake sheds her skin for herself alone. Your body is a temple for a man to silently lust over but never to possess. He has you, when you want him to have you. Men exist for us to multiply, not entertain. He is not to take anything unless you ask, regardless of how he interprets the way you look or behave. Words are yours like swords to wield; you are a woman, you are invincible.“ Cloaked figures walked out of the shadows circled the caramel haired beauty, each taking a marching step forward with a sacrificial gift in their hands; an Amazon was crowned. Extensive trainings from the very moment Phoebe has learned to walk molded the young girl into a young woman. Bones broken infinite times healed over ten times stronger, blood shed made the velvety skin thicker and every “No” she’d ever uttered turned the oceanic laments of young Amazon’s eyes into two doe-like orbs of abyss. One with the nature, an expert in camouflage, Phoebe was birthed into lineage of not heart, mind or soul but physique, and the colorful palette of emotions she was capable of displaying was merely a dog trick taught from young age. A brilliant, gazillion times rehearsed act unaccompanied with a feeling of any sort but pride in herself and her race. A noble warrior with high sense of duty and honor, with purpose of reproducing and defending her kind, that’s who she was trained to be from the youngest of age. From the day of her coronation, traditionally, each Amazon searches out for a male to breed with once a year; nine months later, they celebrate the birth of their female babies, while the male babies are abandoned in the woods to live or die as they may.

They say to have someone to hold responsible for your misfortune would ease the pain, but Amazons were forbidden to blame, so when a family member of her first elect male for reproduction haunted Phoebe down and uncovered their identity of a witch, the girl had known she’d made a mistake. Amazon women were liability and no witch wanted to share a gene with someone who had fifty/fifty chances of either taking the baby with them and disappearing into thin air or assuring the baby’s death. For that, she was cursed to carry a male infant for the rule abided that if Amazon’s firstborn is a male one, she is to send him to his father instead of leaving him for dead. A living breathing reminder of a nature’s failure, a missed conception that she couldn’t label as the Satan’s spawn for he’d be guaranteed a survival without having to earn it. “What is not earned does not belong to you” her elders had taught her. Men were weak, conquerable in whatever domain female would set her mind on and her first deed as an Amazon woman was wasted on giving birth to one. Mistakes happen, but a nature has its way of handling them, they said – so why did her young one survive, if he was weak? Even brainwashed people have their own thoughts, or else how would’ve they survived seeing how no human had enough time to control their own and life of another person in every given situation? Yes, Phoebe was trained, hypnotized from the moment she became capable of understanding the simplest of instructions, but her common sense was only reduced, not completely taken away from her, so she was still a slave of doubts. And doubt is a pain too lonely to know that faith is his twin brother.

A revolutionist, Phoebe was. A fickle believer of men possibly being able to fit in and benefit the tight, almost extinct race of Amazonians, and for that she’d decided to return in Bindlebrim Hallows where all her troubles have started. To abandon her daughters and try not to think of all the sons she’d given birth to and they weren’t as lucky as the boy – Grayson – was. She could not blame the witches for keeping her child alive with desperate measures, but she could blame them for making her care and she’d learned in twenty years of her absence from the town that caring gets you no peace. But it does make sense, that a warrior woman could never find peace for leading wars for peace is like screaming for silence or screwing for virginity. You can’t go both right and left at the same time and Phoebe has found herself on the crossroads of her life, tired of not knowing, of feeling and not being able to pinpoint a word to the emotion devouring her insides. She wanted to put an end to it, to learn whether the boy was truly capable and deserving of being called her son and if he was not, she could leave the town without a single doubt, to return to her warrior family and combat.

† Connections ;

Grayson James

A boy she’d given birth to twenty years ago and was supposed to leave him for death, but the witch’s have found a loophole to Amazonian rules and forced Phoebe into securing his survival. A constant source of her doubt and everything that is shaded gray in her existence. She knows very little about her son, that very little being his name. Though she doesn’t possess a single maternal feeling for the boy, she wonders if he could prove himself as worthy of being called her child, if she could find it in herself to care. She is very determent to find that out, but is yet unsure whether she’d try to mold him into becoming the person of her interest if he proves himself as a failure to her expectations. Uncertainty Phoebe despises over all other emotions and this boy is at the same time bane and a lodestar of her existence.

Her face claim is Gemma Arterton and she is currently played by Irene.

[forbiostosaveyeah2]

“For all the times we punish ourselves, very few times have we actually done something wrong.”

† Basics ;

Species → Hunter, Red Hoods - Witch

Ability → Osteokinesis

Level → One

Specialty → Knives

Age → 19

Occupation → Barista at Kaffeine

† Status ;

Neighborhood → Forest Living, 3 rooms 2 bath - lives with Ethan and Stephane.

Residency Status → New to Town

Pure of Heart → 924

Corrupted Soul → 101

† Personality ;  

+ Forgiving, imaginative, dauntless, caring.

- Naïve, gullible, dependent, secretive.

† History ;

Death. It’s something that humans commonly think about. From a typical point of view, humans live their lives giving themselves purpose in this world. They are born, they learn, they gain, and on many occasions, they love. Many people live ordinary lives as ordinary people until they are cruelly ripped away from the world leaving the people who have many years ahead of them grieving. But that’s a one-sided story—a side where death is the terrible, unnatural consequence. Life is the fire. It does consume to exist, and that’s why it can only exist for a finite amount of time. If you let life go forever, then life will devour whatever it relies on. Just like fire. The opposite of life is not death. Life, and everything in the world, is defined by death. When you make death cease to exist, then life ceases to exist. Margaret Fray, or the “Little Sister” as members of the Red Hoods like to call her, grew up with this way of thinking. Death to the young, naïve huntress is nothing more than a way of life. A necessary step, if you will.

She could hear the wind rustling dry summer leaves in the trees. She listened to the noisy barks of neighborhood dogs. A car revving its engine as it sped down the road in front of the building. A group of loud wannabe thugs walking down the road, professing their toughness, all the while respecting their parents’ curfews. An old hooting in the distance. A cricket chirping. Margaret learned to listen to the faint sounds as much as the loud ones. She lived in a world where everything seemed to flash past her, everything blurring into spectrum of colour and silhouettes. Born to two retired lore hunters, Margaret and her older brother, Ethan, grew up with the knowledge of the supernatural right away. Instead of being taught how to tie her own shoes, at the age of seven, the young woman already knew where and how to behead a werewolf properly. Her life had been laid out from the moment her mother’s ultra sound came in and unfortunately, Margaret never had a choice on the matter. But things are starting to change in the young woman’s life. After a near death experience, the huntress no longer knows where she stands in the grand scheme of things.

It was winter of last year when it happened. The Red Hoods had tracked a random she-wolf who was causing trouble on a nearby town and wanting to prove herself, Margaret volunteered to carry out the task alone. That night, the moon chose to slip out from behind the thick veil of clouds overhead, and Margaret could see by its pale light that her prey wore an absurdly malicious expression. “You think you can take me on? You’re delirious, little girl,” She taunted the huntress. The darkness spread, but she knew she was smiling. She could hear it in her voice, and it increased when she noticed the huntress’ clenched fist. Margaret supposed she thought for a minute that she’d finally break her down. Find her weakness. Successfully lure her to the dark side. But, she couldn’t let her fear show. Then the she-wolf charged. Her irises were black; lifeless, and full of something that made the depths of Margaret’s insides shiver to this day. Her hands flailed in the air to protect herself from the woman’s brute force and they did. The next thing she knew the sound of bone cracking and her victim’s wailing screams registered in her ears. She couldn’t bring herself to sigh with relief, however, far from it. She might have escaped the fury of a deranged werewolf—but she’d lost something no one could take back: her sanity. The only choice she has now is to admit defeat. To be the person that she had never wanted to become. Margaret needs someone to save her from herself. Because the old Margaret was gone. Replaced by a monster: A witch.

† Connections ;

Ethan Fray

Margaret’s older brother, protector, best friend; there isn’t anything these two don’t know about each other. Except, of course, about Margaret’s secret. She desperately wants to tell Ethan about what happened that night. About how she’s scared out of her mind. About how most nights she can’t sleep because of multiple scenarios cross her mind surrounding her fellow members circling around to butcher her tainted soul. But most of all, Margaret wants to go back to the days where things weren’t so confusing and complicated. But Margaret had been robbed of her allotted share of youthful naivety and there isn’t a single possible way she can take that back.

Erin Rhiding

Normally for someone like Margaret, people would automatically like her. But not Erin. In ways, the woman’s everything Margaret wants to be. Ruthless, power-hungry, uncompromising, and efficient as a huntress. Erin enters battles without any trace of doubt in her mind: no ethical pause, no fear of death. The daughter of the leader of the Red Hoods didn’t give Margaret the time of the day no matter how much the young huntress tried. And in a weird way, Margaret admired that about her. She would never try to mirror Erin’s attitude, seeing as the huntress fights, verbally and physically, nearly everyone she encounters. Nevertheless, Margaret still goes out of her way to at least try and befriend the brunette.

Her face claim is Saoirse Ronan and she is currently played by Nini.

[forbiostosaveyeah2]

“You swallowed everything, like distance. Like the sea, like time. In you everything sank.”

† Basics ;

Species → Werewolf

Level → Three

Rank → Lone Werewolf

Age → Appears 21, 56 years old

Occupation → Unemployed

† Status ;

Neighborhood → The Cottages, 2 bedroom 1 bath - lives alone.

Residency Status → New to Town (2 month resident)

Pure of Heart → 590

Corrupted Soul → 211

† Personality ;  

+ Animated, hospitable, witty, soft-hearted

- Boorish, unmerciful, crude, ignorant.

† History ;

Things were startlingly blurry when Holliday’s eyes flicked open. A bright, stabbing light was coming from the window. She squeezed both her eyes shut, then opened one just enough to squint through. It still seemed like a million flashlights were pointed at her. The white, thin sheets that covered her did nothing to block the blinding light searing heat down from above. She glanced out the open window ― a habit that she could never understand or break ― at the pink-orange sunrise sky. She felt like she had been living in eternal night for too long. Two familiar figures stood in front of Holliday, but their faces were in shadow, the light source coming from behind. When she finally grew accustomed to the light, she opened her eyes fully. She took in the person sitting beside the bed, curiosity potent in the way her gaze lingered. It was then Holliday recognized her. And him. “Momma’? Daddy?” She blinked a few times, her eyes bleary and unfocused. Her hand moved to her temples. “What are y’all doin’ he―” Gone. The woman shook her head, confused as to why she actually thought they were once again alive.

In Houston, Texas, the Gatley family were broken apart on a cold Tuesday night in May 26th,1957. Her father, mother, and two older brothers. It was a real massacre and she was the murderer. She had become a lifeless kid. A monster. A devil. A death maker. But the worst thing was that she actually, truthfully, undoubtedly didn’t care. It was the first night Holliday had shifted. She had made preparations ever since Sylvia, her elderly neighbor, told nineteen year old Holliday what she had become when she showed her her gruesome bite. Everything seemed different when she shifted, somehow. Nothing was the same-even the feel of the air, the repugnant smell that came from her farm, the look of the stars; even the things that were supposed to be eternal, supposed to be the same now as they were ten years ago or fifty years hence-everything seemed different. It was as if something had been robbed from her-as if she had lost her allotted share of youthful naivety and her turning into a wolf was her rude awakening. Like loving, killing was a very personal thing. And as she ate the last remnants of her family, Holliday took it all; not wanting to miss a single moment of it.

Taking some deep breaths, techniques taught to her by her psychologist, Holliday stared at the purple-smudge clouds hovering over Bindlebrim Hallows like bruises. She deliberately relaxed her grip on her backpack’s strap, the last shaft of sunlight glinting off her bright golden necklace. Holliday allowed the pleasure of the twilight to soothe her, and inhaled deeply to breathe the sweet, damp air. She tried to stop feeling like she was driving into a battle because she promised herself Bindlebrim was going to be different. The young she-wolf had gone through most of her life alone and unable to find peace within herself. Becoming one with her wolf form is all she needed but protection is far more important to her. She has been warned several of times of what a life as a lone werewolf can cost her. But just like when the woman’s mother told the girl not to hang around bad influences, Holliday just won’t listen.

† Connections ;

Spencer Petrescu

The first Bindlebrim citizen she met, Holliday and the curly-haired man grew close to the hip ever since their first encountered. This was one instance where it may have been better if they had never found each other, but regardless, they had been dragged together like black magnets. If you were to see Holliday by herself, either Holliday is in need of some alone time or Spencer’s mingling around with the men of Bindlebrim. The latter, however, is a more probable reason.

Peyton Reese

An unlikely friendship, the two women didn’t expect their relationship to be what it is now. Sleepovers, shopping (mostly for Peyton’s new toys), late night vlogging and much more, Holliday and Peyton may be complete opposites but what they lack in similarities, they make up for the care and protectiveness they share for one another.

Her face claim is Phoebe Tonkin and she is currently open.

[forbiostosaveyeah2]

“I want to ask if you feel full, if you feel safe, if you are free; or if you just can’t feel your chains.”

† Basics ;

Species → Werewolf, Magnum Malum Lupis

Level → Four

Rank → Caretaker

Age → Appears 23, 75 years old

Occupation → Nurse, Currently Unemployed

† Status ;

Neighborhood → The Slums, 3 bedroom 2 bath - lives with Gavin Simmons and Clayton Doyle

Residency Status → New to Town

Pure of Heart → 605

Corrupted Soul → 2896

† Personality ;  

+ brave, loyal, considerate, ethical

- paranoid, quiet, guarded, susceptible

† History ;

It was the same few words called out over and over, as if those few syllables were the only ones left in her syntax - help, stop, please, no, why. Violet had screamed to the ceiling, painted the walls with such terrible cries it should have permanently stained the drywall. She can remember wondering why the pitch of her voice didn’t break down bricks, shatter windows, bring the other occupants of the room to their knees from the sheer fright in her voice. The true impact of a word can only be found once it is expressed in extreme duress; with terror dripping from each letter, splashing onto the floor and muddying soles and souls alike. But Violet had screamed until her throat was ready to bleed, and no one had come to her aid. Not even those that were supposed to love and protect her - her parents stood idly to the side, immune to their only child’s pleas. Because there was something more important than their daughter’s safety; a cause they had dedicated their lives to even before her birth.

Like much of the human race, Violet’s parents were infatuated with what they could not have. Unlike the majority of mankind, however, this was not money or objects or anything material. Violet’s parents were obsessed with the supernatural; the myths, legends, and lore that had been passed down from generation to generation. Specifically the stories of werewolves, a cursed half-man half-beast, beguiled them. They spent their lives researching and tracking these creatures, looking for every scrap of evidence and tracing anything that would lead them closer to an actual werewolf. Even when Violet reached maturity they never told her of their secret obsession, instead covering up their sudden departures and arrivals as part of her father’s jobs. And Violet trusted them wholly, as most children believe and trust in their parents. Violet has never trusted anyone since. She was tricked once, and she won’t let it happen again. For her parents, finally trapping a werewolf was not enough; they had to be able to study it, be as close as possible, all while remaining objective in their studies. The solution: turn their own daughter into a live-in case they could observe and communicate with.

Groggy and filled with drugs, Violet awoke in a dark room, strapped to a metal table, with a snarling wolf gnashing its teeth in the corner. Her parents watched from a safe, locked room while the werewolf was forced towards her and sunk its teeth into her soft flesh. Violet survived the bite, but did not stay to become her parent’s test subject. She fled at the first chance, roaming from town to town, leaving each municipality without so much as a word to a single occupant. Violet’s physical transformation did more than alter her genes: she’s no longer the happy, bubbly girl she once was. Closed off and guarded, she speaks to almost no one, forming no bonds and staying far away from trust; her own way to ensure she is never betrayed again. Now, her only ties are to the Magnum Malum Lupis, whom she joined to ensure her own safety. Even amongst her pack she is silent, but can become crude and wild on occasion only before their eyes, so as to fit in and not draw attention to herself. Although she assumed the role of caretaker, Violet remains one of the bravest and best fighters of the pack - whenever there is a tussle, she is always in the middle, fighting tooth and claw. But Violet’s true intentions still lie in protecting herself: she guards the lives of others to assure they will preserve her in the long run. Buried deep down her old heart still beats, the one filled with love and trust, but she does everything she can to bury it along with the bones of those she kills.

† Connections ;

Rayna Cruz

As the only other female of the pack, Violet made more than one attempt to befriend the girl with small gestures, secretly hoping they could bond over their gender in a male-dominated pack. Yet again she was shut down, quickly and ferociously. Rayna seems to harbour extra aggression towards Violet, and she can’t figure out why. As the one and only pack member Violet has tried to befriend, the rejection only buried her deeper into her silent hole.

Solomon Doughty

Violet does her best to become as ruthless as the other members of her pack, but even though puts on a good show, she cannot help but feel sorry for the innocents they slaughter and harass - like Solomon. She has no intentions of sticking her neck out for him, but she has still quietly refused to participate in the bullying and horrible treatment the others bestow on the Omega. However, this seems to have backfired on her, as now Solomon is attempting to get closer to her, mistaking her lack of reluctance to abuse him for a sign of friendship. Violet’s been dodging him at every corner, but his constant attempts are wearing her patience thin. It’s been far too long since someone has legitimately been interested in her well-being.

Her face claim is Jennifer Lawrence and she is currently open.

[forbiostosaveyeah2]

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”

† Basics ;

Species → Human

Skill → None

Age → 25

Occupation → Preschool Teacher

† Status ;

Neighborhood → Hillside Cabins, 1 bedroom 2 bath - lives alone.

Residency Status → Resident, 4 years.

Pure of Heart → 500

Corrupted Soul → 430

† Personality ;  

+ Charming, trusting, gentle, lovable.

- Dependant, escapist, coward, fickle.

† History ;

They say since the war began, 2096 soldiers have died in Afghanistan and 4474 soldiers have died in Iraq. Of those 6570 soldiers, 1369 were marines. Perhaps if Naomi had only known better, she wouldn’t be pouring herself another glass of wine. Her lithe fingers gently trailing the leg of her company - a laugh escaping her rosy lips. If only Naomi knew an IED took up a residence on the road her husband’s battalion is driving on, she wouldn’t be following her gentleman caller up the stairs. Maybe if Naomi knew that the man who shared his name with her had become just another number on the causality board she would refrain from unhooking her crimson laced bra and retrieve her wedding ring instead. But, no, Naomi doesn’t know better.

The news came just as she had been told it would. A knock on the door, men in suits giving their condolences but nothing had prepared her for this. She falls to the floor, face in palms, tears leaking through her fingers - just as she should. They have seen this again and again. Another wife made widow. They do their best to lift her seemingly delicate frame off the floor - leading her to the couch. A poor move, as it faces the the photos of the now deceased. They pat her on the shoulder and exit the home, giving her the privacy she needs. She mixes her guilt and grief cocktail, sipping on it as she turns down the picture frames reflecting her mistakes. The eyes of the fallen setting hellfire to her soul.

The school calls, allowing her to take some time off - as much as she needs they say. She takes this time to place the blame on anyone or anything but herself. She gave so much to their relationship, to others. Couldn’t they see how it weighed on her? The loneliness? The unhappiness or being married to a man that never truly loved you? The verbal abuse year after year? His own indiscretions? Surely it hadn’t always been like this. The man in uniform had given her exactly what she wanted and needed at one point in time. Naomi never knew when exactly their relationship took a turn for the worst. If it wasn’t either of their faults, was it the war’s? She had given him her all and when her all wasn’t enough, she gave it to someone else. She blamed the alcohol, the man that had such a powerful hold on her, his seductive nature that led her astray - all because she hadn’t known better.

† Connections ;

Wayne Carter

The man who had led her astray while her husband was away. They had met one, dark night while Naomi was at a low. Weeks of no word from the man on the other side of the world, she found herself in the liquor aisle of her local grocery store. She ran into him on her way to her car, the bottle crashing to the asphalt. He offered to buy her a drink, it was the least he could do. She was hesitant at first, but he persevered - his entire being lighting her soul aflame. For the next month they spent their time tangled in her sheets until the unsettling reality of her husband’s death had reached her.

Her face claim is Claire Holt and she is currently open.

[forbiostosaveyeah2]

“We’re fickle, stupid beings with poor memories and a great gift for self-destruction.”

† Basics ;

Species → Werewolf, Magnum Malum Lupis

Level → Five

Rank → Beta

Age → Appears 31, 302 years old.

Occupation → English High School Teacher

† Status ;

Neighborhood → Hillside Cabins, 3 bedroom 3 baths - lives with Enya and Evan.

Residency Status → New to Town

Pure of Heart → 3410

Corrupted Soul → 5

† Personality ;  

+ Diligent, intellectual, amusing, diplomatic.

-  Placid, moody, nervous, aloof.

† History ;

Looking down at the swings, Elliot let his imagination wander. What would it be like if the Kovar siblings had a normal childhood? How different their lives would be now? Who would they be if they were never acquainted with heartbreak? No bullshit and dark secrets? It was too easy to imagine. Their normal parents would be too busy making money to spend much time with them. They would escape their empty, hollow homes to go to the swings, their favorite place in the world; their home away from house. Their tiny hearts would soar, and their stomachs would somersault as they flung themselves off the ride, giddy and giggling. They’d read books and pretend they were smart. They’d stay on the swings until the evening so the mighty chief of the town—who’d be their best resemblance to a hero—found them and gave them a ride in his cool cruiser. They’d beg him to flip on the loud squad lights on the car roof, and it’d absolutely thrill them, the way it’d thrill normal kids.

His mind flashed back to the house he did grow up in, the house where the Kovar children experienced true pain. Elliot’d been away from his house for fifty years, and in that time he’d gotten older. Maybe not a lot wiser. But definitely older. Sometimes he dreamed about that house, sometimes he thought about it. Sometimes he even missed it, but he never missed himself there. Sometimes he managed to go days blocking it’s memories. Other times, it felt like there was not an hour that could pass him by without some kind of reminder. His sister had rescued her younger brothers from a painful time in their life, showing them the greatness that ran in their blood. Their father, previous alpha of Magnum Malum Lupis, had mysteriously disappeared and left not an ounce of his existence behind. And while grief and confusion should have been the dominant feeling surging through the Kovar siblings, a power-hungry attitude submerged instead. They were children of an Alpha, bound to become Alphas themselves. They did not ponder the fact that their father had gone missing; all they wanted was to conquer the MML.

Admittedly, Elliot is not a normal person. He’s capable of friendship, and certainly of love, but never could he imagine himself drowning in experiencing them, even if they were normal tendencies. For Elliot, every moment, every opportunity, every event is treated like his last, like life or death, like do or die. And because of that outlook, the man has always been the “level-headed” out of his siblings. Behind his ethereal looks, he has scintillating smarts. Every stare, every glance is matched in equal fervor by his ideas and opinions. His sophisticated, stylish self is made even more ideal by a less than perfect, corny sense of humor. To many, he had always been both the dream and the reality, the phenomenon and the ordinary, the myth and the guy. But life was a blessing in disguise as it gave beings a focal point, a reason to face each other. Otherwise, Elliot’s story might have been different and drowned in it’s ‘should have-would have-could have’s. So while most of his fellow members think Elliot’s simply going to step down and give the throne to either of his siblings, that’s far from the case. Calculating every single step he takes, the middle child, the quiet one, the less noticed of the Kovar siblings is biding his time until the moment his pieces are in place. And that’s the moment when the Magnum Malum Lupis will be his for the take.

† Connections ;

Enya Kovar

The greatest weapon Enya Kovar uses against not only Elliot but nearly everyone is their own mind; she preys on the doubts and uncertainties that already lurks there, which won’t let them be true to themselves or live for the expectations they’d set. She made Elliot and Evan run on this exhausting, unsustainable ideal, and the more they moved, the less they thought about things. By the time they realized they were stuck on it, Enya skipped town with her father in search of God-knew-what, and all their fears, concerns and what-ifs had stayed behind. It’s one dilemma Elliot still can’t find a solution for. The relationship between Enya and Elliot is both confusing and nonexistent. Enya, with her malicious attitude, barely shows any affection towards either of her brothers making it harder for Elliot to have a civil conversation with her.

Evan Kovar

For the first time in a while, Elliot’s completely out of the picture of his youngest brother’s life, Evan. He has no control anymore of what’s happening or the consequences of his brother’s actions. He’s merely watching and observing from the sidelines. And that bothers him to no end. For most of their lives, the Kovar brothers relied on one another, protected each other even if it meant the death of either. Their sister and father had abandoned them in a house where the source of their nightmares are from. But with each Kovar child searching for ways to claim MML, the once close brothers have distanced themselves from one another.

Rayna Cruz

The murderer behind her previous Alpha’s demise, Elliot, unlike his siblings, takes immense pity on the she-wolf. But that has pity blossomed into something else; desire. Back when his father was still alive, Elliot had insisted many times for his father to realize the potential of his pack member. But due to his father’s obsessive and tyrannical behavior, Elliot’s wishes were never granted. But now as the werewolf is analyzing every way to be the alpha, the King of his pack, he’s looking for a pack mate to rely on, to trust. And since every King needs a Queen beside him, Elliot has vowed to make the Rayna Cruz his Queen -one way or another.

His face claim is Sebastian Stan and he is currently open.

[forbiostosaveyeah2]

“When you play a game of thrones you win or you die.”

† Basics ;

Species → Werewolf, Magnum Malum Lupis

Level → Five

Rank → Alpha (Temporarily)

Age → Appears 35, 306 years old.

Occupation → English Professor at Astoria University

† Status ;

Neighborhood → Hillside Cabins, 3 bedrooms 3 baths - lives with Elliot and Evan.

Residency Status → New to Town (8 month resident)

Pure of Heart → 11

Corrupted Soul → 9297

† Personality ;  

+ Captivating, eloquent, charismatic, individualistic.

-  Pompous, moody, perfectionist, cantankerous.

† History ;

Enya ran. Every steel cable of self-control that tethered her to her serenity suddenly snapped as if it was an old, rotted string. Every muscle in her body was screaming and sighing simultaneously – begging, pleading, raging for violence – taut and poised for any action she decided upon. Of course the result of the tsunami of conflicting desires was that she was rooted helplessly to the spot, paralyzed as she burned and ached and throbbed for some kind of release. Enya had always considered herself to be a rational person. She thought it was one of her strengths. Even as a killer, she was methodical… Even-tempered. She had an uncanny ability to predict what people were thinking and so, in some small way, she always felt in control of most social situations. She liked being in control. She liked being rational. Killers, by nature however, aren’t rational. They are instinctual. Supreme predators, using their unparalleled senses to hunt and kill their prey. They’re supremely selfish beings and had no need to be understanding or merciful, acting without conscience or consequence. And that’s the thing. Enya Kovar, daughter and killer of Magnum Malum Lupis’ Alpha, was never fond of the act of killing. But she was, and still is, fond of power.

Her life began with a decision. A quick summary for the story? Once upon a time, a little girl mourned for her family. Once upon a time, she found the cause of it. Once upon a time, she turned against him. But killing her own flesh and blood was not part of that plan. This isn’t a story about how family conquers all however, nor how good always prevails over evil. At twelve, she was a rebellious kid with more than one special thing about her, but still nothing to indicate the panjandrum of infamy she would soon command. It was well-remembered how her blue eyes shone bright with childlike mischief, how her smile was cheeky in its roguishness, how her cheekbones and angular jaw were still preternatural and premature. Driven and daring, she had a self-generated urge and determination with which she discovered the world and herself. Her father chose her out of her brothers, leaving them with a mentally unstable mother. He trained and polished her battle moves, perfected her shifts during the full moon, and made her into a silent killer. But he invoked a part of Enya that should have been kept hidden for the sake of his own life. Once a daughter who did everything her father told her to do, Enya found that she wanted one thing her father was standing in the way from: his title as Alpha.

The terrible claws of a need for power dug deeply into her chest, and the concept of what was right and what was wrong deserted her. All of her past choices were made from the standpoint of satisfying the everlasting sense of revenge — the one she’d carried with her for years. They were based on the trauma of her past, which made them all shaky, unstable and tragically flimsy. If only she wasn’t engulfed with the haze of her power-hungry personality, if only she’d toned it down just a little bit, maybe her father would still be leading the MML pack with an iron fist. But Enya looks back at her past as a reminder of how far she has come, at the little figure of her younger self, the self of the distant past still untainted by a corrupted soul. But to her, the conversations, the memories seem ethereal at this point in her life. As if they were things that happened under cloak of darkness, that are now vanquished by the sun. Like confessions, and admissions, and honesty. And now that she’s MML’s temporary Alpha, Enya doesn’t plan on letting anyone strip her of her new title.

† Connections ;

Elliot Kovar

Her younger brother, but seemingly more capable brother Elliot, the one with the potential and the expectations, had walked out of the ashes of devastation, scarred and shaken. He had his very foundations of trust and belief in others, especially Enya, and let himself be torn down. He had been stripped bare of all he thought was true in this world and had been reborn in a wash of blood and hurt, fire and ice, and now he stood as someone new and infinitely stronger. Thankfully however, Enya believes her brother has no intention on trying to fight for a spot as Alpha; which is more than alright with her.

Evan Kovar

When Enya looks at her youngest brother Evan now, she doesn’t see the fragile, weak boy who ruined helplessly stayed behind Elliot’s shadow. She sees a man who struggled against the darkness inside himself and fought with all his might to change. It makes feel guilty however, but only a little, because she made him stay with a mother who couldn’t take care of even herself. At the time, Enya wasn’t trying to choose between her brothers and their father. But it was a choice between her brothers and her power-hungry self, and the demon won and would have gone on winning no matter what she did. Although the relationship between the two was never a good one, the two manage better than Enya and Elliot. But now with Evan’s current want to become MML’s Alpha, proclaiming he’s the true heir of the Kovar siblings, Enya knows she has to silence him one way or another. No matter what it takes.

Magnum Malum Lupis

With a pack vicious as MML, Enya has been kept at her feet ever since the murder of her father. Troublesome as it is, the woman enjoys the hassle that comes with being an Alpha. She knew others might be wary of her taking the tittle as Alpha but, in the end, shewas the true heir; the eldest and only daughter of Elijah Kovar. Not Elliot, nor Evan. She’s the one who has invisible strings of her puppets now. She can wave them, move them around, pull them tightly around throats. Cutting those strings wasn’t the problem. Seeing them was.

Her face claim is Lana Parrilla and she is currently open.

[forbiostosaveyeah2]

“You need to realize that the way you are feeling now will not be permanent.”

† Basics ;

Species → Werewolf

Level → Three

Rank → Lone Werewolf

Age → Appears 25, 101 years old.

Occupation → Host at Vince’s Diner

† Status ;

Neighborhood → The Slums, one bedroom - lives with Meghan Rivers

Residency Status → New to Town (2 month resident)

Pure of Heart → 344

Corrupted Soul → 69

† Personality ;  

+ Spontaneous, valiant, dauntless, passionate

-  Dominant, careless, curious, insatiable

† History ;

If you squint your eyes to see, you’d be able to make out from the dead darkness a child of five, bound with heavy chains to the wall. His eyes were deep, empty and unnervingly emotionless. If you look down, you’d see a beautiful woman with long brown tresses falling from her shoulders. She had a blue victorian-era dress with a long, finely-woven petticoat. Such was the mother, such was the son. The woman pressed on a tiny button, and high-voltage wires came to life. A small tear was shed as she watched her little boy get electrocuted. “Please understand this is for your own good, Sergio,” she said in a tiny, coarse voice. The child did not make any reply but one spit of the blood that started to form in his mouth. Such was the torture, for the child and mother. The mother’s pallid face was stained with tears. But she must endure, and so far to insure a good, well-trained heir for the Eason family. She halfheartedly pressed the button and watched her son jiggle with the jolting electricity. The child, meanwhile, was sullen. He felt numb, and released no hostile aura to his mother. Such was their consciousness. Not one word was shared. But each of them, in their own -mother-child awareness- both knew why they were doing such acts to each other. Why they had to torture themselves, physically, emotionally, and mentally. It was devotion to family, devotion to blood.

Sergio was abandoned the moment his mother delivered him to the world. He should have known he would be abandoned for years to come and yet, he carries himself as if he never was. Because somehow, as wary and unsure as he may be, he still has hope. He still trusts in those who hurt him, deep inside his conscience, even though he feels so badly used now. But to him it’s a pleasing kind of dark, forsaken emptiness that swallows him. It’s different from the agony of longing that he’d always wanted to run away from as a young boy. It’s like a drug. That sense of being away from the conscious mind, to be away from all problems and just be free. It’s addicting. At the age of eight, his abusive parents decided they no longer wanted a son and simply left him in the care of the nuns at their nearby orphanage. But still, he held on to the tiny glimmer of hope buried under the facade he produced around his fellow orphans. Through fabricated smiles and meaningless jokes, he conquered the hearts of many with the innate easy nature he possesses. But the woman who united his closest friends into a legitimate family soon came to his and their lives and years later, he received the curse of the moon happily.

Life as a werewolf suited Sergio well. As his sister tried to adjust to the supernatural changes and as his brother trained aimlessly to perfect his new found abilities, Sergio just… Lived. Perhaps it was how the young man carried himself throughout most of his human life; carelessly, optimistically, humorously, and with a amiable heart. But Sergio never second guessed himself, was never plagued by his insecurities and flaws. He simply carried every day like it was his last. It was a something he became infamous for—recklessly determined and boldly challenging; the countenance of a man who fearlessly accepted any challenge. But loss seemed to be an experience Sergio never experienced. When someone Sergio cares about isn’t fine—in which in most cases ‘someone’ is either Garrett or Meghan—everything else loses significance. As he watched his mother die before his eyes, her life slipping away without a moments notice, a stab of guilt prickled his heart. And long as he has this immense fear of loss and survivor’s guilt, he’ll never have peace in his mind again.

† Connections ;

Garrett Rivers

Sergio’s the exact opposite of Garrett; instinctual, spontaneous, and impulsive because he comes up with plans on the spot. He’s no schemer nor would he ever be one. Sergio’s the ‘Fuck it, god I hope this works because I’ve glanced at the situation for about five seconds but I see few possible variables and I’ll pick up the pieces later because I always do anyway, here goes’ last minute man. He’s smart, but he isn’t calculating. Garrett hates that about him. Garrett’s more in control, experienced, and modest than he’d ever be. Not to mention that he always made sure to ignore his natural instincts, while Sergio made sure to rely only on them. But behind their constant bickering and meaningless fights (both verbal and physical), the two are brothers to the core. Unlike his sister and Mercedes, Sergio isn’t to worry about Garrett and instead is behind any and all decisions his brother makes. But that isn’t comforting to any of his pack mates seeing as how most of Sergio’s decisions are made in a blink of eye.

Holliday Gatley

While scouting a town for MML members, he had met the lone she-wolf along the way. He talked about his pack, informed her if she ever needed a pack to join, his would be wide open for her. Alas, she decline his offer. He often wonders if she hadn’t, but part of him is glad. His brother wants nothing more than revenge for their mother’s murder and although they need numbers to beat such a vicious pack, putting others in danger isn’t something he is fond of or wants. But if the chance arrives and the assistance of Holliday becomes a priority, Sergio won’t think twice but to call on a distant friend.

His face claim is Colton Haynes and he is currently played by Alec.

[forbiostosaveyeah2]

“It seems that when you want to make a woman into a hero, you hurt her first. When you want to make a man into a hero, you hurt… also a woman first.”

† Basics ;

Species → Werewolf

Level → Three

Rank → Lone Werewolf

Age → Appears 26, 102 years old.

Occupation → Actress at Orpheum Theatre & Waitress @ The Hangar

† Status ;

Neighborhood → The Slums, 1 bedroom 1 bath - lives with Sergio.

Residency Status → New to Town (2 month resident)

Pure of Heart → 488

Corrupted Soul → 129

† Personality ;  

+ Protective, affectionate, impartial, meticulous

-  Stingy, aloof, covetous, insecure

† History ;

Erratic, panicked footsteps echoed through the walls, clicking against the awfully wooden floor. Although distant, the clicks seemed to hover effortlessly about the floor, and this did nothing to comfort the she-wolf. The hallway was like a maze; she was in a tiny daze, the walls, the ceiling, and the floor were blurring in her vision, a cold chill bolting through her body, a maddening hysteria overtaking her. The aftermath was so surreal. Winded, she was sitting limply on the floor, back leaned against the wall, staring into nothing. The only movement she felt was that of blood, flooding soundlessly from his clothes to the floor, turning it henceforth red. The wretched scent was everywhere. A warm flow of crimson erupted, leaking out of her like a faucet that couldn’t be shut off. It wasn’t her blood. She didn’t have but a few scratches on her face and a wound on her leg. “Meghan! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! They’re coming!” Her half-lidded eyes slowly looked up. There was a growing hoarseness in her voice. “Sergio…?” Meghan blinked. How could she speak when she didn’t have the words: the words, the word, the single word resonated. Resonated until it divided and multiplied. Unfair. Hurt. Blank. Damned stream of consciousness, damned tongue twister of life. What could she speak when there was nothing left but nonsense and empty words? The aftermath was so heavy.

Fate dealt a cruel card to the character of this story. This was one instance where it may have been better if the soul had never found her other halves, but, as always, she was dragged towards them and them to her like black magnets. But sometimes, the bitterest pill to take is the soul that has been there all of your life. The soul who wants to consume you, to own you, to drink your strength. The soul mate that is tied to you, and you are shackled to them. The orphaned brothers and sister grew with the knowledge of abandonment from a early age. Together since the age of ten, Meghan has been perhaps the anchor of the three, a subtle difference between irrationality and pure neglectfulness. But in the eyes of the oppressed, the less offered, the victim, she is not the weakling but if anything the strongest of the pack. Born to parents who didn’t even consider the possibility of raising their first born daughter as their own, Meghan didn’t let that small matter distinguish herself from the rest. She didn’t want a sob story, she wanted others to know that she went to hell, lived through it, and came back unscathed and unfazed.

Out of the ashes, she arrived. Imogen Rivers was a lone she-wolf with goals beyond a soul’s wildest imagination. She scavenged the Earth for centuries, looking for the perfect children to call her own, raise them with the care their birth parents did not. Arriving at the orphanage Meghan and her brothers were located, she knew they were the ones. Through pained faces and hollowed cheeks, the children followed the mysterious woman’s lead immediately, becoming secure in the words she spoke. For three years they remained human as she prepared them to be changed. Meghan, unlike her brothers, was wary of the decision. She’s a true believer that life must take it’s course and death shouldn’t be avoided but welcomed with open arms. Turning into a creature who cheated life seemed wrong and morally impure to her. But they were her family and the knowledge of being an orphaned still fresh in mind, Meghan chose the bite instead of sticking to her beliefs. Forced to make choices she didn’t intend to make because the circumstances offered no other good options, the Rivers children soon found out about their mother’s obsession: the Magnum Malum Lupis pack. She had grown up without warmth. Her heart a blizzard, and her world black and white. But the brick wall around her heart has fallen, and a new one constructed in its place. The ameliorated barricade now protects the Meghan with reason and motivation.

† Connections ;

Garrett Rivers

Garrett is insufferable in Meghan’s eyes. He blames himself for what happened to their mother, and refuses to listen to any of her consolations―or Sergio’s, which is even worse. Garrett has been on a dangerous path, believing in vengeance above all else. She knows if the occasion is given he will try to take out any of the wolves from MML without even one of them there to back him up. Afraid of his well-being, Meghan has now tried to remained by his side no matter what and thankfully Mercedes has done same.

Sergio Rivers

Meghan has gotten used to Sergio, she has gotten used to him and her. Her stomach still flips in a way that is still so surprising, so delightful every time she lays eyes on him that sometimes she closes her eyes and opens them just to look at him again, to feel that feeling. Meghan’s eyes visibly twinkle every time her brother’s name is mentioned, and she wonders if such admiration exists in Sergio’s heart as well. But how could two souls such as these be together? Although not blood brother and sister, the two have grown up with the idea that they were. Meghan knows she shouldn’t feel more than sisterly love towards Sergio but a heart is a fickle thing. She can’t control it, but only endure it.

Mercedes Black

The only other female in their pack, Meghan has gotten closer to Mercedes over the years. She knows now how much Garrett cares for the woman but the relationship between the two wasn’t always a fond one. Trusting others is something Meghan has learned over the years to not give in so quickly. So when Mercedes told them of her experience with the MML, Meghan was wary if not blatantly mistrusting of her. But she has grown to have respect for her and has undoubtedly given Mercedes a place in the pack.

Magnum Malum Lupis

Rigorous physical training in both human and wolf form, lessons on all things supernatural, each children were taught anything and everything their mother knew. She didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of the MML pack by showing weakness in her children. No, she wanted to prove just how worthy she was of being a member of the pack. But alas, the notorious MML didn’t give her the time of day upon hearing of her want to become a member. Enya Kovar sniffed her adversary for one second, chuckled as if she knew something the rest of the world didn’t, and beheaded their mother in one mere second. They watched in horror as their mother, their rescuer, lost her life. And as the sinister, dark-haired woman bowed in front of them, vengeance became rooted deep in their hearts. Unlike Mercedes’ case, the three were spared and given a place in the pack. For five years they stayed. For five years they studied the pack, figured out the weakness in each member, and calculated a plan to kill every single one of them. But alas, they were far to weak to take on wolves older than all three combined. During a full moon, Meghan and her brothers left the MML in order to carry out their plan. They have tracked the pack to Bindlebrim Hallows years later and will not stop until each member is beheaded just like their mother was.

In terms of hatred, however, the boiling vengeance once present in her heart is no longer present. She hates MML with every fiber of her being but she knows in order to kill them, sacrifices must be made. If it comes down to either Garrett or Sergio (and even Mercedes) dying in battle, Meghan will without a doubt do everything she can to make her brothers flee from such scenario.

Her face claim is Jemima West and she is currently open.

[forbiostosaveyeah2]

“Note to self: every time you were convinced you couldn’t go on, you did.”

† Basics ;

Species → Werewolf

Level → Five

Rank → Lone Werewolf

Age → Appears 27, 103 years old.

Occupation → Waiter at Vince’s Diner, Part-Time student at Astoria University

† Status ;

Neighborhood → The Cell Block, 1 bedroom 1 bath - lives with Mercedes.

Residency Status → New to Town (2 month resident)

Pure of Heart → 49

Corrupted Soul → 1,200

† Personality ;  

+ Contemplative, ebullient, urbane, honorable.

-  Authoritarian, outspoken, aggressive, frugal.

† History ;

No piece of gold-plated metal can ever recover the lives and the innocence lost in a war. Once you step on the battlefield, all that you know, all morals that you hold dear must be placed aside in order to carry out the designated goal. Of course, there is some honor in fighting and winning and living to tell the tale, but futures don’t usually matter in the here and now, when all one can see before him is death and destruction, soil churned into blood-red mud by trampling feet, sweat and fear tainting the very air into a sour miasma unfit to be breathed in by fatigued lungs. Garrett Rivers has learned this throughout his life, knowing no matter how many blood he spilled, nothing good came out of the atrocities he performed. If he had the luxury to go back to the past, he would have pointed out the fatal errors he had made in his life, would have made sure his mother wouldn’t have died and tossed aside as if she was nothing…

But before he obtained the surname of Rivers, he was the son of a noble man whose life’s mission was to divide and conquer. The Brisbois family was perhaps one of the most powerful among the influential court families in France; should it’s sons decide to enter into politics, the family could probably take over the entire system within a week. But for as long as anyone could remember, the Brisbois had always refused to accept or assume positions of authority in the government; their power did not come from money or social status, but from what they were and the work they did. Aside from their residual status, all the Brisbois were martial arts experts and combat specialists; it was even rumored that their bloodline descended from the great warlords of old. André Brisbois (which he later changed his first name) wasn’t different nor did he lack the talent his family possessed. He was a prodigy, his father held his head high whenever the mention of son’s name, his mother swooned whenever others congratulated her, and his siblings cowered in envy. Bringing them to the situation which would make Garrett an orphan. Long story made short, disgruntled politicians had finally succeeded in worming their way into the minister’s good graces, and had somehow convinced the man that Garrett was somehow dangerous to the country, and thus have to be separated from his parents immediately if the nation wanted to keep her current peaceful and prosperous status.

Though they loved their son, they loved power more than they let on. Dispatched at an orphanage in Spain due to the Prime Minister’s wishes, Garrett’s whole life had been turned around at a tender age of ten, meeting his soon to become brother and sister there and later on, mother as well. Out of the three, Garrett clung to his adoptive mother the most, each word uttered by her perceived as law in his eyes. The love formed for her in his heart was so strong, the death of his mother that followed years nearly crushed him. He was fearful of the uncertain, and afraid of the unexpected dependency he had brought upon himself by his actions. He was ultimately scared to be alone. But he wasn’t alone, he still had his siblings by his side, he still needed to be responsible for them because he knew his mother would want that from him. After escaping the grasps of the MML, Garrett did everything in his power to get himself and his siblings ready to face the pack that destroyed their family. They met other lone werewolves along the way, some joining them but in the end, the infamous reputation the MML carried made them abandoned Garrett’s pack. Through perseverance he was able to get them to where they are now and he won’t back down until he washes the blood of his adversaries from his hands.

† Connections ;

Sergio Rivers

Sergio’s the exact opposite of Garrett; instinctual, spontaneous, and impulsive because he comes up with plans on the spot. He’s no schemer nor would he ever be one. Sergio’s the ‘Fuck it, god I hope this works because I’ve glanced at the situation for about five seconds but I see few possible variables and I’ll pick up the pieces later because I always do anyway, here goes’ last minute man. He’s smart, but he isn’t calculating. Garrett hates that about him. Garrett’s more in control, experienced, and modest than he’d ever be. Not to mention that he always made sure to ignore his natural instincts, while Sergio made sure to rely only on them. But behind their constant bickering and meaningless fights (both verbal and physical), the two are brothers to the core. Unlike his sister and Mercedes, Sergio isn’t to worry about Garrett and instead is behind any and all decisions his brother makes. But that isn’t comforting to any of his pack mates seeing as how most of Sergio’s decisions are made in a blink of an eye.

Meghan Rivers

Garrett is insufferable in Meghan’s point of view. He blames himself for what happened to their mother, and while he can see she doesn’t like it, how can he help himself? Garrett has been on a dangerous path, believing in vengeance above all else. He sees the errors that could occur, sees how wrong everything could go but he knows nothing will go wrong. He has calculated every step to take and if they follow through with it, the MML will be no more in a matter of months.

Mercedes Black

The werewolf, although never technically appointed as their leader, has held a quite interesting relationship with Mercedes. At first they hated one another, then they couldn’t even be in the same room let alone the same team, then, for a brief period of time, Garrett left the group because of his pure hated towards her. But his return and a night of booze and flirtatious advances at one another, their once hateful relationship has turned into steam nights where both Sergio and Meghan couldn’t bare to hear their unpleasant moans. Several years later, Garrett is now aware Mercedes might just be the perfect match for him. However, a slight, but serious problem has made their relationship a bit rocky. Garrett’s obsession and sociopath emotions towards the MML pack might just be the downfall of their relationship. And while she wants to stand by his side, wants to kill her kin’s killers just as much as he does, she can’t bring herself to listen to his rants for another day. She knows full well how an obsession will surely lead to death, and she will not have a loved one’s blood on her hands yet again.

Magnum Malum Lupis

Upon their immediately entrance to the pack, the three sought each other’s comfort to get through a few years, or at least enough to figure out a plan to escape the MML pack. Through the years they resided in the security of the pack, one member disliked the idea of the Rivers staying in his presence and decided to seek out his own revenge. In his wolf form the man challenged him, refusing to let him go until one wolf died. But he was a newly turned werewolf, unable to control the thirst and strength inside himself. But something primal was telling him to fight, forcing him to act like a cornered animal with nothing to lose. All his senses were wide open, and he felt ready to explode with the life thrumming though his veins. When he came back to their base camp, Garrett had brought the head of the werewolf with him. The act brought anger to most if not all members. Except for one—the Alpha. In the years to follow, Garrett was closely trained by MML’s Alpha, learning how to shift properly in most moon phases and use the pent up power of his wolf even in his human form. If he was under different circumstances, the man would have been a father figure to him. Alas, he was the father of a daughter who beheaded his mother. Affiliation with the woman meant Garrett could not think of him as any more than an enemy. The Alpha granted Garrett and his siblings safety from his pack, and he knows they won’t try anything on him or his family solely because of that reason.

His face claim is Aaron Taylor-Johnson and he is currently played by

[forbiostosaveyeah2]

“There are two reasons why we don’t trust people. First - we don’t know them. Second - we know them.”

† Basics ;

Species → Werewolf

Level → Three

Rank → Lone Werewolf

Age → Appears 21, 89 years old.

Occupation → Secretary @ Sunny Daze Motel

† Status ;

Neighborhood → Harbor Heights, 2 bedroom 2 bath - lives alone.

Residency Status → New to Town

Pure of Heart → 227

Corrupted Soul → 106

† Personality ;  

+ Kind, warmhearted, sociable, romantic.

- Guarded, emotional, sensitive, unstable.

† History ;

The children huddled as closely as they could. Though the cage was spacious enough for all of them to sprawl their legs, they preferred the comfort of each other’s warmth in the cold cage. After all, they were all in the same boat—kidnapped children whose fates were still hanging uncertainly. They had no idea on what would happen to them, let alone making plans to escape. They were children, after all. The oldest among them was a girl aged around fourteen, medium length blond hair, like the colour of tree trunks and eyes as sharp as the coolest of ice, her skin pale from the lack of sun. She had the youngest child in her arms, trying to comfort the crying two-years-old toddler while reining her fear and insecurity as well. She looked around the desolate cage. Everyone had the same expression on their faces; horror, loneliness, sorrow, homesickness, fear and other negative emotions. She could practically smell the despondency hanging thickly in the cage. Her jet black hair hung delicately around her face, framing her childish round visage like a porcelain doll. One one word escaped her lips but not a word exactly, but a name. Her voice thinning out, as faint as the wind itself. “Sergio…”

Robbed of her humanity at the tender age of thirteen, Isadora Eason’s story starts at Burgos, Spain, her hometown. Daughter of a noble, her life had been planned from the very start. She was to wed at the age of fourteen, deliver children to her husband and carry out the Eason line, and of course, bring wealth to her name. But alas, this isn’t the story of a rebellious girl in search of something more to her life. On the contrary, Isadora thrived to achieve such life and wouldn’t dare to live any other way. However, he parent’s darkest deed caught up to her and she soon found out of their secret. Human experiments had been hid away from any watchful eye as grosteque procedures were done in the name of science. Under the façade they put on, Isadora’s parents were scientist in search of immortality. Worst of all? Years before she had been born, they had experimented on her brother. A brother she had no knowledge of. Despite her want to live peacefully even with the new knowledge plaguing her mind, she had never felt so distant and unreachable, as if everything she knew, everything she clung on to, were nothing more than lies. It was as if she had set up an even thicker, more impenetrable wall between her and the world surrounding her. But before she could run away or speak to her parents regarding the matter, a noble family from a distant city grew jealous of the Isadora’s growing fame and plotted to kidnap young Isadora in the middle of the night to prevent their fame from blossoming further. Her kicks and screams did not assist her on that horrific night and soon, Isadora became a prisoner with a hundred other abducted children.

For three years Isadora remained imprisoned with a dozen other children. Food four times a week and one day to roam outside their cage, life as she knew it changed drastically. She was no longer the noble daughter with a future at her footsteps, she was a prisoner, bound to her cage, and prepared for butcher. It wasn’t until 1947 when she was freed from the grasp of the unknown evil; somewhat. Dr. Caron Perrault, a French noble, was in need of a test subject to one his newest discovery: Lycanthropy. By caging a feral werewolf during the full moon with the help of hunters, he was able to extract the blood containing the curse werewolves carry in their veins. To his misfortune, Isadora did not survive the transition, blood spiking too high of a fever for the girl’s petite body to take—or so he thought. They had left her to rot, mistaking her for a lost cause. After thirty-five hours without showing any sign of life, Isadora rose from the ashes and for once, she was truly free. After years of being locked away from the world, Isadora is now a woman with a purpose having lived through the cruelty of humanity. She has met many others of her kin along the way but her ties are only with her blood; her brother. With a desire to be in close contact with this family she has never met, Isadora is now on her way to Bindlebrim Hallows after sources targeted the man to the town, a hub to all supernatural creatures.

† Connections ;

Sergio Rivers

She only has a picture of him found long ago on her mother’s nightstand. Determined, she was able to keep it all these years so that when they finally meet she’ll have some sort of proof. A way of showing she’s not some crazed werewolf. Isadora is afraid however, fearing he won’t either believe her or welcome her. And can you blame her? But a lifetime of waiting has dulled this fear, pushing Isadora to do what she has dreamed of doing: meeting her brother.

Her face claim is Leven Rambin and she is currently open.